


Prompt request ficlets Apr19 - QN

by Tokei_B



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:39:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokei_B/pseuds/Tokei_B
Summary: Collection of ficlets from a prompt request round. Prompt listhere1. Accidentally falling asleep together: Reiji x reader2. Slow dancing : Ranmaru x fem!reader3. Sharing a dessert: Camus x reader4. Finding the other wearing their clothes: Ai x reader5. Finding the other wearing their clothes: papa!Ai x fem!reader, featuring a three y/o son6. Caring for each other while ill: papa!QN. Reiji has twins, Ranmaru a son and daughter, Camus a daughter and Ai a son





	1. Accidentally falling asleep together: Reiji x reader

Reiji tilted his face to peer up at you, his lashes beaded attractively with water droplets.

“You’re always so good to me.”

You casually combed his wet bangs away from his forehead. Reiji’s arms hung limply over the side of the tub as he leaned back into you, more water sloshing over onto the floor as he lazily paddled his legs between yours.

“Feeling better?” You asked, gently massaging his temples. His back stretched out in drowsy pleasure.  

“More than better,” he muttered sleepily, enjoying the feel of your body under his. The water the two of you were soaking in was just the right temperature for maximum relaxation. Praises and compliments slipped almost unconsciously from his lips and echoed off the bathroom walls.

“I should return the favor.” He made to turn over but your hands on his shoulders forced him to stay where he was.

“Next time,” you mumbled into his ear. He groaned with pleasure while your thumbs worked themselves skillfully into the knots in his back. “Let me do this for you today.”

“You’re the best,” He sucked in a breath, his eyes closed in a grimace as a particularly tight muscle released under your ministrations, then relaxed again. “I don’t deserve you, I really don’t.”

“Silly Reiji.” Your hands stroked his sides gently.  

“I am, my honey,” He smiled, his eyes still closed as he slid down, his fingers tangling with yours in the water. “I’m the biggest fool ever for you.”

You didn’t reply, just tightened your hold on his. He was unusually quiet after that, his breathing gradually slowing, his head growing heavier on your chest. The constant dripping of water, Reiji’s steady breathing, the gentle pressure of both water and his body weight on top of yours like a weighted blanket lulled you into closing your eyes as well.

The chilliness of the bathwater was what woke you up later. Reiji’s chin was nestled in the gap between your collarbones, his eyes filled with affection as he watched you sleep, having turned himself over before you woke up. His hands were still entwined with yours, your legs tangled together in the narrow tub.

“The water’s gone cold, darling,” His voice was full of intentions as he leaned heavily into you. His hands came up and smoothed your wet hair away from your face, and you were suddenly very aware of the feel of his bare skin pressed against yours. “Shall we heat it up again?”


	2. Slow dancing : Ranmaru x fem!reader

You had to control your face from twitching in surprise when you saw Ranmaru making his way towards you through the crowd, his footsteps clattering across the marble floor of the ballroom.

“I didn’t know you were back,” The look in his eyes that showed when he was pushing himself and hadn’t gotten enough sleep didn’t escape your notice. Your tone softened. “Weren’t you supposed to be flying in tomorrow? You didn’t have to rush back, you know.”

“Took an earlier flight,” Ranmaru mumbled, his grip firm on your arm. “Swapped with Ai.” His eyes refocused. Your face burned with a flush as red as your dress when you literally felt his gaze travel hungrily down your form, taking in the fact that you were adorned from head to toe in nothing but silver and carmine, from the accessories in your hair all the way down to your shoes which had cost more than they were worth but were the only pair that matched both of his eyes.

“Didn’t know I was coming but look at you,” His mouth quirked into a grin and he pulled you closer. “You trying to say something?”

“We’re in public,” you replied archly, your arm twisting out of his grasp. “Why did you even come anyway? I told you my cousin would be my partner for this.”

“Reiji sent me a photo. I’ve seen your cousin and that wasn’t him.” His eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”

You resisted the twin urges to both find Reiji and strangle him and to knock some sense into Ranmaru with the closest object at hand, preferably something harder than his thick, boneheaded skull.

“I’ll have you know that I happen to have more than one cousin. It’s not like you’ve met my whole family.”

“Tch,” He clicked his tongue but you could see his shoulders visibly relax, as if some great tension had drained from him the second he heard that it really was your cousin whose arm you had been holding on to in the photo. “Prove it.”

“Oh for– Fine, I will!” 

You spun on your heel, determined to drag your cousin out of wherever he had fled to after abandoning you the second Ranmaru appeared, and just narrowly avoided colliding with someone who happened to be right behind you. Amid the flurry of apologies from the both of you, the man who barely managed to save his flute of champagne after you almost ran head first into him looked at you curiously.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you before…” He held out a hand. “If you would do me the pleasure of your name and a dance–”

“She’s taken.”

Before you could process his words Ranmaru’s hand was around your waist, his other hand catching hold of one of yours. Your feet barely touched the ground as he forcefully led you away and towards the dance area. Smoothly maneuvering both of you between the waltzing couples already there, he came to a stop somewhere near the other end of the ballroom.

Straightening up, he let go of your waist and held out his hands in a proper hold. You stared at him in surprise, quite sure that the bright light from the chandeliers above must be playing tricks on your eyes.

“I thought you hated this sort of thing?”

He raised a brow at you, the beginnings of a scowl forming on his face.

“Look, do you want to do this or not?”

You laughed softly. A single step brought you towards him, your hand sliding naturally into his while his arm went around and up to support your back. His fingers closed firmly around yours as your other hand slipped down his shoulder on to his arm.

“I shouldn’t be surprised but it’s still a bit of a shock to know that you can dance ballroom as well,” you teased, your movements following his easily as he swayed and turned. “Idols sure have it tough.”

“Had to go for a ballroom boot camp for a show once. Never thought I’d wear one of these damn stiff pieces of cardboard that they call collars again.”

“Well, thank you very much for your noble sacrifice,” You followed his lead, your steps matching his effortlessly. “If it’s any consolation, it looks very good on you. You even took the time to do your hair! I’m touched.”

“Cut the crap,” Ranmaru grunted, the light reflecting off the floor hiding the blush tinting his cheeks. You laughed lightly, spinning and returning to his arms.

“Besides,” he continued, drawing you closer to him protectively. “Like hell I’d let some snobby son of a bitch lay his shitty hands on you.” His eyes were fierce as he directed his glare at the man who had asked you for a dance earlier and was currently heading towards the two of you with every intention of trying again when he spotted Ranmaru sending him a clear message.

_Back off. **SHE’S MINE.**_

Unaware of the poor sap who had been terrified by the sheer force of Ranmaru’s murderous gaze into beating a hasty retreat, you took the time to drink in and greatly appreciate the rare sight of Ranmaru in a ballroom suit with his hair slicked back.

The waltz ended, the piano transiting into the next number smoothly. The soft notes accompanied by the violins thinned out the crowd around the two of you as couples left. You looked up at Ranmaru who seemed to have no intention of letting you go.

“The surprises never stop tonight, do they? Still up for another dance?”

“You looking down on me?” His hands traveled down to your waist, your arms moving up to drape over his shoulders as the two of you came closer together, as easily as breathing. “I can keep this up as long as you want.”

Your steps floated as lightly as the music around you. Your fingers rested on the back of his neck, lightly brushing the short hairs there stiff with gel.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this effort for me,” you mumbled, smiling softly. “Where did you even get this suit from?”

“Reiji had a spare in his trunk,” His shoulders rolled and shifted under your touch. “No idea how he normally changes in his car, the backseat’s damn narrow.” He didn’t mention that Reiji had screeched when Ranmaru had almost kicked out one of his windows while pulling his trousers on.

“Ran,” Your voice was trembling from the pressure of suppressing your laughter. “You and Reiji are nowhere near the same size. How on earth would his spare suit fit you, and so perfectly too?”

You almost lost it at the dumbfounded look on Ranmaru’s face, the meaning of your words slowly sinking in.

“Let me guess, he was waiting for you outside when you arrived?” you continued, your eyes dancing with merriment as you watched the light of realization dawn on him. “And he just happened to have a spare suit in your size in his car? With shoes to match? All this right after sending you that photo?”

His grip on your waist tightened. “Fuckin’ hell Reiji,” he snarled under his breath when he realized how neatly he had been played into attending this ball. “Just wait til I get to you…”

You hummed in reply. “Just do it outside, the people here would faint at anything.”

The music, the slow swaying of the dance, Ranmaru’s cologne, the tender closeness between your bodies, all this was making you feel so very soft and mellow. Ranmaru’s hold on you relaxed gradually, the look in his eyes unusually gentle as he gazed down at you. Other than when he had spied his rival for your company heading towards you earlier, his eyes had never left you since he first saw you through the crowd, resplendent in his colors, taking his breath away.

“I’m glad you came though,” Your eyes were half-closed in contentment. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to dance with you like this.”

“You should’ve just asked.”

“Mhm, but it’s not just that,” His heartbeat was steady, comforting under your ear as your head rested against his chest. “I’d much rather be with you than my cousin.” You sighed softly. “Thank you for being here with me tonight.”

“Idiot,” His hand left your waist, his fingers firm under your chin as he lifted your face towards him. “I said I’d be there for you whenever you needed me, didn’t I? You know that I always mean what I say, especially when it comes to you.” 

“I know.”

His forehead rested lightly against yours, your noses bumping. You smiled, your steps not stopping.

“I thought you were going to kiss me.”

Then you noticed that you were no longer in the ballroom, the ceiling lights far away and winking at you through the large french windows of the balcony Ranmaru had been gradually and cleverly maneuvering you to throughout the two dances.

The night air was chilly against the thin fabric of your dress but your face was pleasantly warm as he bent over you, his hand cupping your cheek, his broad back shielding the two of you from any curious eyes who happened to be looking outside.

“Who says I’m not?”

*

Ranmaru almost broke his phone when he collected it, together with his luggage, from the concierge and saw that Reiji had texted him a photo of the two of you out on the balcony along with the message: ”You can thank me later (>ω<)ﾉ ♥ ～ ″.

(He never showed it to you, and it was much later and purely by accident that you saw it as his phone background.)


	3. Sharing a dessert: Camus x reader

Camus staggered back, one hand shielding his face from the blinding beauty of what you held in your hands.

“You–” he gasped, one hand clutching his chest as if he was in great pain. “My eyes must be deceiving me. This cannot be possible!”

The smirk on your face was almost as wide as the depth of Camus’ anguish. You held up the box in your hands triumphantly.

“I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about, it’s just a cake.”

“You halfwit!” The look in Camus’ eyes was equal parts lust, fury and disbelief. “Can you really be so ignorant? Do you truly not know the treasure that you hold in your hands?”

“Of course I do,” you answered smartly, whisking the box away from his grasping hands. “This is what you’ve been obsessed with for the past few weeks, isn’t it? That’s the whole reason I bought it to begin with.”

The switch in Camus’ mood was almost as dramatic as his outburst earlier. Now radiating peace, love and mercy, he held out his arms beatifically.

“I see. You should have said so from the very beginning, little fool.” The dazzling sparkles from his smile wasn’t strong enough to disguise the greed in his eyes as he stepped towards you, his gaze fixed hungrily on the box cradled in your arms. “Come, I shall gracefully accept your humble gift with gratitude. Your due diligence in procuring what I was not able to shall not go unrewarded. I shall permit you a single taste of the exquisite treasure within for your services.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s the other way round actually.”

His steps froze.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me the first time,” You could actually see the light dim in Camus’ eyes as the words dropped from your lips like a death sentence. “This isn’t for you.”

The sound of Camus dropping sharply to his knees echoed as you turned and placed the box in your hands on the table. Lifting the cover, you took your time to admire the cake inside. It really was a beautiful piece of confectionery, almost like a work of art. It was a little hard to believe that what you were looking at was actually edible.

After taking a picture of it with your phone, you were in the middle of scrolling through your contact list when you heard Camus stagger back to his feet behind you.

“You must be lying,” he rasped, one hand against the wall for support. “There cannot possibly be anyone else you know who has the eye to appreciate such beauty and goodness besides me,” He straightened up, his composure gradually returning. “There is still time for you to repent. I shall forgive your transgressions this once if–”

You held a finger up to your lips as the call connected.

“Hello? Cecil?” There was an audible boom from behind you as the wall next to Camus begun to crumble, inflicted by the violent blizzard which had suddenly raged up around him. “Yes, it’s me. Yes, I managed to get it, thank you so much for your help with this. Are you free to come over now? You are? Oh, he’s here too but I already promised to share it with you–”

Your fingers stung with cold as your phone was abruptly snatched from your hand. “Ajima,” Camus growled, his hair drifting in the air with the force of his fury. “SIT. STAY.”

Breathing heavily, Camus tossed your phone back to you. You woefully beheld the ice-encased phone in your hands and stared resentfully at him.

“You owe me a new phone.”

“You shall receive however many phones you want in exchange for The Queen.”

You looked down at the cake with the grandiose name in front of you and then back at Camus.

“I hardly think that’s enough, do you? Never mind, I remember Cecil’s number, I can always call him again–”

“Wait!” A single drop of blood wept from the side of Camus’ lip as he bit back a roar. “Name your price, heathen. I shall endeavor to fulfill whatever dark desires you may have, even at the cost my very soul.”

You rolled your eyes at the extent he was willing to go to for a single dessert.

“Anything?” you asked in confirmation. “You’re sure?”

“A knight never goes back on his word. I swear, on the name of–”

“Right right, I get it.” Ignoring how miffed Camus looked at not getting to invoke the title of his sovereign, you waved off the rest of his sentence and sat back in your chair. 

“First, no more name-calling. I’m used to it by now but it would be nice to see you and not be insulted every once in a while.”

“As you wish,” he sniffed in disdain. “If that is all…”

“Not just me. I mean towards everyone.”

Camus paused. “Everyone?” he repeated incredulously. “Surely there must be some concessions, there are imbeciles out there who cannot be called anything else–”

You gazed steadily at him, your fork poised over the top of the cake, ready to stab down and disfigure its surface. He sucked in a breath.

“I shall try,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “What else?”

“I want you to call me by my name.”

He blinked at you. “Is that not what I have been–”

“I mean my first name,” you cut him off. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”

“…I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly, much to your surprise. “There seem to be no end to your demands. I suppose it would be too much to hope that that is the last of them?”

“You wished,” you smiled. “Next, take me with you the next time you go back to Permafrost.” You’d never been there before and the thought of seeing where Camus grew up intrigued you. He paused in thought, and sighed.

“Fine. That can be arranged.” He stared down at you, his patience clearly at its limits. “Surely that is the last of your demands?”

It was all or nothing now. You took a deep breath, your words coming out in a rush.

“There’s this Florence Nightingale mini-skirt Halloween costume that I’m sure you’ll look great in–”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! THE AUDACITY!”

It was a testament to how sturdy the table was when it didn’t break under the force of Camus’s fist.

“I-I cannot,” He was breathing heavily, his voice that of a man who was on his knees in the greatest agony. “Even if it is for The Queen…The Queen–!”

You were beginning to get the feeling that the man before you might actually physically shatter into pieces right in front of your eyes if you pushed him any more than this.

“Three out of four isn’t so bad, I suppose,” He slowly lifted his head and gazed at you, the light of hope gradually returning to his eyes. “Just one bite then.”

“Not even a slice?”

The fascination of seeing Camus actually pleading with you made you let your guard down. “I could concede to a large spoonful if it makes you feel better.”

The only thing indicating that Camus had left the room was the gush of wind that followed in his wake. You blinked and he was back again, a porcelain plate in hand. You made sure to keep a firm grip on the tray that the cake was placed on in case he decided to break his word and hijack the whole thing anyway.

“Remember, one spoonful.”

His confidence restored, Camus simply looked you straight in the eye, his arrogance rapidly returning in full force.

“Of course.”

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out what looked like a garden spade except that it was slightly smaller, made of platinum and engraved with elaborate carvings. Elegantly spinning it around his fingers, he swiftly sliced down at the speed of light, neatly separating the cake into two with one slice being more than three quarters of the whole thing.

Sliding the head of the spade under the larger piece, Camus was about to ladle it on to his own plate when you finally recovered from the shock of almost having your fingers sliced off.

“There is no way that is a spoonful!” You objected, jabbing a finger at the implement in his hand. Seeing him arch a brow at you, you resisted the urge to throw the rest of the cake at his smirking face.

“This is, to all purposes, simply a very large spoon. If it has a handle and a rounded head suited for scooping and serving then it fulfills the standard definition of a spoon, regardless of its size.” He lifted the spade, the edges of the abnormally large slice he had cut and chosen filling the surface of the blade right to the edges. “Observe, a single spoonful.”

You watched in disbelief as he transferred what could no longer be called a single slice of cake to his own plate, sliding it off the blade with a flourish. The look that he gave you as he carefully wiped down what he insisted to be a spoon made it clear that it was his victory.

By this point you were wondering what the difference between manslaughter and murder was, and if you suffocated Camus with enough cake which of the two would give you the lighter sentence.

You had reached the stage of planning how to dispose of his corpse when a cup of tea clinked against the side of your plate. Looking up from the pathetic remains of what you had thought was a sure victory, you saw a full tea service on the table. Camus was standing behind you, having plated the remaining slice of cake and setting it before you while you were lost in thoughts of crime. Placing cutlery on either side of your plate, he went on to unfold and spread a napkin in your lap, then returned to his seat and folded his arms.

Your first name rang from his lips like the summons of an avenging angel.

“I shall allow you the first taste of her glorious majesty. Hurry up.”

All thoughts of murder temporarily blown away by the fact that he was actually doing what he had promised you earlier, you slowly reached for your fork. The minute the cake touched your tongue you understood why Camus had been willing to sell his soul for a single bite.

When you recovered, you blinked and found yourself subjected to the extremely disturbing sight of Camus sparkling like a vault of diamonds, a spring wind blowing his locks into an attractive mess as he indulged in what had to be the most indecent look that you had ever seen on him. He looked, for all the world, as if he was in the midst of the greatest ecstasy ever known to man.

“Well done,” Daintily dabbing away the tears of bliss which had gathered at his eyes, he bestowed a smile worthy of a saint upon you. “This would be considered a great accomplishment for someone of your standing, peasant.”

“You promised–!”

“I was not addressing you,” he replied smoothly, his fork going in for another bite of the cake which he had impressively managed to demolish a third of. “I was simply describing your social status.”

Right, murder it was then.  


	4. Finding the other wearing their clothes: Ai x reader

The last thing you expected to see on getting home after a long day was Ai head-first in your closet.

“Oh, you’re back.” Unperturbed, he straightened up. “Welcome home. You’re seventy-eight minutes later than usual. Was there a lot to do at work today?”

You nodded, your eyes still fixed on what seemed to be at least half of the clothes you owned draped over both of Ai’s arms. Your gaze traveled up to find one of your hats perched on his head, your favorite scarf which you had just taken out of the dryer the previous night wound smugly around his neck.  

Words failed you as you stared at him. It didn’t help that he seemed to think it perfectly normal to be pilfering your closet while you were away and simply returned your stare.

“Since you’re back, you can help me decide,” Ai held out his arms, a multitude of your tops hanging off his left and all of the trousers that you owned on his right. “Which of these do you think we should wear together?”

Ai’s question floated vaguely to the back of your mind as the majority of it was occupied by the single thought that it simply wasn’t fair that Ai looked better in your clothes than you did. A slight petty feeling of betrayal rose up inside you and you stared a little resentfully at the shirt which Ai was currently holding up.

“–have a cardigan which would go very well with this, but I would still like your opinion on it,” He finally noticed that the look on your face was completely at odds with what he was saying and sighed. “You’re not listening.”

Sliding your clothes off his arms so that they slithered into a graceful pile on to your bed, he took your hands in his.

“Did something happen today?” Brushing your hair away, he leaned his forehead against yours. “Your temperature is normal, as is your heart beat. There’s nothing wrong with your physically. Are you that tired?”

You looked up at Ai, your confusion and general sulkiness about how good your own clothes looked on him blinding you to the fact that his face was too close to yours right now.

“What are you doing with my clothes?” you asked bluntly. Ai’s second sigh ruffled your brows.

“You really weren’t listening.”

Tugging on your hands, he led you out of your room.

“As I was saying earlier, I’m going to be away for at least a month this time, so I thought of taking some of your clothes with me. Naturally, it’s only fair that you’ll be taking some of mine as well.”

Opening the door to his room, Ai showed you the neatly coordinated sets of tops and bottoms lying on his bed, ready for your choosing. Once again, both words and logic failed you as you stared blankly at the rolled up pairs of matching socks topping each set of clothing.

“I still don’t get it,” Finally admitting complete defeat, you sat down on his bed and started fiddling with the material of the t-shirt closest to you, which you weren’t sure would fit you in the first place. “Why are you taking my clothes with you on your tour? Don’t you have more than enough of your own?”

“Because I can’t take you.”

His arms crossed, Ai tilted his head to the side and answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “So the next best thing I can bring with me is your clothing. It’s both practical and will remind me of you whenever I wear them.”

Crouching down, he again took your hands in his and looked up at you.

“I can’t?” Now you knew for sure that he was playing dirty because he absolutely knew that you could never say no to him when he pleaded like that. His thumbs rubbed circles on the back of your hand. “Could it be that I’m the only one who wants a reminder when we’re apart?”

“No,” The word was out of your mouth before you realized it. You looked down, your face flushing at how direct Ai’s gaze was. “I want something of yours too. But…” You trailed off, your eyes shifting to the clothes on his bed, your shoulders drooping. “Ai, you look great in everything. Even my clothes look better on you than they do on me. But I’m different,” You shrank back into your coat, your voice growing smaller. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make your clothes look as good as they ought to.”

Ai let go of your hands and cupped your face instead, gently drawing you out of the depths of your coat.

“While it’s true that not everyone suits every type of clothing, I don’t understand why you would say that about yourself,” He squeezed your cheeks, making you raise your hands to his in protest. “To me, you look perfect in anything you wear and that would apply to anything I choose for you, my own clothing included.”

“Really?”

It was Ai’s turn to pout as he switched to pinching your cheeks now. “Apparently I’ve been failing in my duty as your boyfriend if it’s so difficult for you to believe what I say. This is disheartening.”

“No, you’re fine. It’s just m–” Your words were cut off by your hat being pushed into your face.

“You can have that back, but you need to take one more item from me in return.”

You finally managed to smile a little. Ai’s scent still lingered faintly on the hat in your hands. “This too,” you said, tugging at the scarf around Ai’s neck.

Swiftly swinging the ends of it over his shoulders, Ai pushed your hands away and back into your lap. “No. This is the one thing I’m bringing with me no matter what.”

“But it’s my favorite,” you protested.

“I know.” This time it was Ai’s turn to sink into his collar, the lower half of his face hidden behind your scarf wrapped around him. “That’s probably why your scent is the strongest on it.” He peered back up at you, his cheeks puffed up in mild annoyance.

“While it’s good to finally hear you laugh, it would be nice if it wasn’t always at my expense.”


	5. Finding the other wearing their clothes: papa!Ai x fem!reader, featuring a three y/o son

You were trying to show your toddler how to fold the laundry but your son seemed more interested in burrowing into the pile of warm, freshly washed clothes than learning a mundane but essential life skill.

Poking his head out of the pile, he held out his arms.

“Look, Mommy,” he grinned, the collar of the t-shirt he had pulled over his head slipping over one shoulder. “I can wear your clothes now!”

“I think it’s still a little too big for you,” you laughed, lifting him out of the pile. “Maybe a few more years and it’ll fit better.”

“How long’s a year?”

“Many, many days.”

“What about Daddy’s clothes? How many more days ‘til I can wear those?”

“Even more days than a year,” You pinched his nose playfully, your t-shirt now off him and folded in your lap. 

“That’s too long,” Your son grumbled, chubby cheeks puffed up in a pout as he climbed into your lap and flopped into your stomach, the t-shirt you just folded displaced by his actions. “I don’t wanna wait that long.” After a while, he sat up again and tugged at the shirt you were wearing.

“Mommy, you smell like Daddy.”

“Really?” Your cheeks slightly pink at being called out by your toddler, you picked him up and sat him down properly between your legs. “I wonder why.”

Insistent on uncovering the truth, your son turned around again and pulled at your top with both hands this time.

“You’ve got the wrong shirt on, Mommy! This one belongs to Daddy!”

“Oh, you’re right,” You feigned ignorance, your hands raised to your cheeks in mock surprise but in reality to hide the blush that was spreading rapidly. You had no idea why you were being embarrassed in front of your own son. “I must have gotten them mixed up. How careless of me.”

“Aren’t you going to change?” The innocent stare of the toddler in front of you was enough to make you mentally clutch your chest and feel strangely indecent for stealing one of Ai’s shirts just to feel closer to him while he was away.

“I’ll do it later. I’m sure Daddy won’t mind.”

“Daddy doesn’t mind sharing his clothes?”

Memories of Ai bluntly insisting that you wear his clothes everywhere when he was going through a jealous phase once made you want to hide your face in your hands again.

“I think so?”

“Then I want one too!” Standing up from your lap, he ran over to the pile of laundry which seemed to be resigned to the fate of never being put away and begun digging through it.

“Aww, you don’t want to wear Mommy’s clothes anymore?” You watched him pull out one article of clothing after another, t-shirts and pants sliding across the floor as he pushed them away. 

“I want Daddy’s now,” Holding up one of Ai’s shirts, he sat down on the floor and struggled to pull the t-shirt he was wearing over his head. “It’s not fair if only Mommy gets to wear them.”

You affectionately ran your fingers through your son’s messy hair as he finally managed to get his shirt off and begun the monumental task of putting his arms through the sleeves of the large shirt he had just appropriated, his face furrowing in a frown as he poured in all the concentration and effort of his three years into it.

“Why do you like Daddy’s clothes so much anyway?”

He cocked his head to the side and gave you a look which was so much like Ai’s that you melted almost instantly.

“Cos it’s Daddy’s.”

He was now trying to pull on the other sleeve and failing miserably at it. He looked up at you, his large eyes filling with tears as the over-sized shirt pooled around him.

“It doesn’t fit,” he whimpered, his lips trembling as he held out his arms towards you pitifully. “I can’t wear it, Mommy…”

Scooping him up in your arms, you quickly soothed your teary child. “Let’s see what we can do, okay?“

By the time you were done folding and buttoning and tying Ai’s shirt around your son you were convinced that one, you had the qualifications to be an origami master, and two, this particular shirt was definitely going to have to go through the wash again. You had no idea how you were going to explain to Ai why this shirt of his was so horribly crumpled and even sticky in places where your toddler had bitten it out of frustration. Somehow, you had the feeling that the explanation of “our son got mad that I was wearing one and he wasn’t” would only raise more questions.

Looking down at himself then back up at you, the wide grin that your son gave you made you feel that all of the time and effort earlier had been worth it.

“We match with Daddy now, Mommy!”

“We do, don’t we?” 

His mood restored, your child ran off, almost tripping over the long tail of the shirt you had taken so much effort to tie around him. You were gathering up the poor remains of the original pile of laundry when the television suddenly switched on and Ai’s visage filled the screen. Shocked, the clothes fell from your hands back on to the floor.

Your son padded back to stand in front of you, the television remote in his hands.

“Daddy’s on TV again!”

You nodded, secretly relieved that your television wasn’t possessed after all.

“Yes, well, that’s where he is most of the time these days,” you answered dryly. The meaning of your words going right over his head, your son placed the television remote on the ground and begun to bounce in place in time to the cheery music coming from the TV. 

“Happy happy happy, nabigashion~” You couldn’t help but laugh as your child did his best to sing along to the song to the best of his three-year-old abilities, his little arms flailing as he shook his baby bottom in time with Ai’s movements on the screen. 

“Dance with me, Mommy?”

Throwing your embarrassment to the wind, you got up and gamely played along, holding your toddler’s hands. Infected by his childish enthusiasm, you tried your best to mimic Ai’s movements on the screen as well, you and your son’s laughter filling the house.

You were so caught up in playing along with your son that when an arm suddenly encircled your waist and the last line of lyrics was sung clearly into your ear, you jumped and shrieked in shock. Your mood plunged as Ai, his face too close to yours, gazed at you in open amusement.

“Daddy! Daddy’s home!” Bending to pick up his excited son, Ai easily balanced him on one arm, his other arm immediately returning around your waist to prevent you from escaping. 

“I’m home. I see that the two of you have been entertaining yourselves while I was away.” 

“Daddy look, look! I can wear your shirt now!” Your son proudly showed off what he was wearing. “I don’t have to wait days and days and years!”

“Oh?” Ai hummed in acknowledgement. “That’s great. I’m very impressed. Did Mommy help you with that?”

“Yeah! Mommy started it!” Your hand was too late in covering your child’s mouth as he happily pointed out the one thing you were hoping to hide. The look that Ai turned on you at this revelation was enough to make you redouble your futile efforts to run and bury yourself somewhere out of sheer embarrassment.

“Did she now?” You helplessly tried to push his head away as he purposely leaned down to inspect what you were wearing. 

“I clearly remember how reluctant you were when I asked you to wear some of my clothes before we got married.” The smirk lighting up his face was annoyingly devastating on your heart. “It’s nice to see that you’ve had a change of mind. I suppose this means that you’ll be doing it more often?” 

Then his mouth was right next to your ear.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

**Bonus! Ai’s jealous period before marriage:**

Ai looked up as you exited the bathroom, his bathrobe a little too big on you. You were about to head out of the room when he spoke up.

“Your clothes are still in the wash, so you’ll have to make do with my pajamas again tonight.”

You stopped and eyed him suspiciously.

“That’s what you said this morning as well. There’s no way a wash cycle takes that long.”

“The washing machine stopped halfway through the day,” He matched your look of pure disbelief with one of nonchalance. “That’s why it’s taking so long. It can’t be helped.”

You could clearly see in your mind the image of Ai deliberately pausing the washing machine halfway through its task and setting it to switch on again right before you came back.

Standing up, he took from you the clothes that you had borrowed from him (or to be more precise, that he had forced on you) to wear out that day and pushed a set of his pajamas into your hands.

“Go and get changed. I’ll wait for you to go to bed together.”

“Ai,” you looked up at him wearily. “You don’t have to do this. We’ve already been together for so long, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why should I be worried about anything?” The look on his face showed that he knew you were fully aware that he was lying through his teeth though. “I am very secure about our relationship as it is right now.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow at him but decided to let it go for today.

“Besides, my clothes are going to get worn out if this goes on.”

“I’ll buy you a new set then. Or you can just continue wearing mine,” Dropping a kiss on your forehead, he turned you around by the shoulders and gently pushed you back into the bathroom. “Go on.”

Sighing in silent defeat, you helplessly did as he said, not knowing that he had already prepared for you another set of his clothes to wear the next day and which was simply ready and waiting for you in his closet.


	6. Caring for each other while ill: papa!QN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiji has twins, Ranmaru a son and daughter, Camus a daughter and Ai a son.

**papa!Reiji:**

  * The papa who spends half his time in the kitchen cooking for his babies and the other half at their bedside, trying to cheer them up whatever way he can.
  * He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off his sick babies, always hovering over them and touching them to check if they’re getting better or worse.
  * His wife has to drag him out of the room if the doctor ordered calm and rest for the sick. He’d sneak back in later, cradle a sick child in each arm and rock them to sleep with a lullaby.
  * If only one of them falls sick their sibling would be anxiously following him around the kitchen, trying to help papa cook because they wouldn’t be allowed to go near their sick twin, especially if it’s infectious.
  * He’d split his time between taking care of the sick and reassuring their healthy sibling that nothing’s going to happen to the other one, and distract them with ideas of all the fun things they can do together once they’re well again.
  * When Reiji’s down and laid up in bed his twins would try to feed him his meals. Reiji has to open his mouth pretty wide to accommodate the two spoons being held up to him at the same time.  
  * When bedtime comes around they’d crawl into bed with him and pat him to sleep with their little hands. His wife looks in and sees one of them curled up on his chest, the other tucked under his arm and poor Reiji looking as if he’s experiencing heaven and hell at the same time because his fever is raging and he’s sweating through his clothes but his babies are sleeping on him so he can’t move although he’d really like to get up to change his pajamas and use the bathroom but HIS BABIES.



**papa!Camus:**

  * Imagine a state of national emergency except on a smaller scale and contained to his house. Only the very best physicians are allowed to see to his daughter, even if they have to be flown in from Permafrost.
  * All the servants in the house would be put into standby mode for the entire duration of his angel’s illness.
  * He’d stand guard over his daughter’s bedside all night, holding her little hand and attending to her every need at the expense of his own sleep.
  * His butler mode evolves to butler!papa mode and it’s a force to reckon with.
  * If Camus should ever fall sick (perish the thought, the sheer force of his personality would drive out any viruses that dare to take up residence in his body) it’s his little girl’s turn to sit by his bedside. She’d read a book to him or play whatever instrument she knows to send her fallen daddy to sleep.
  * (Somehow I feel Camus would let his daughter learn the harp and they’d do the most elegant duets together. Behold the birth of the father-daughter pair with instruments large and heavy enough to smash someone to death if they wanted to.)  



**papa!Ranmaru:**

  * The other papa who’s standing in the kitchen and cracking his head over what to cook that’s tasty, nutritious and easy-to-eat for little stomachs that can’t keep anything down.
  * His son who’s normally quite mature for his age gets clingy when he’s sick. Ranmaru would sit him on his lap and awkwardly rub his back while his heart is aching over how weak and ill his boy is. His son would have his head pressed against Ranmaru’s chest, one hand holding on to a handful of his father’s t-shirt.
  * (He doesn’t know that he accidentally ruined one of Ranmaru’s old band t-shirts when he threw up over him earlier. Ranmaru doesn’t plan on telling him.)
  * “You okay, kiddo?” “No.”
  * He’s also the attentive papa who’d be doing his best to pat his daughter to sleep, sticking cold patches on her forehead and arranging the covers properly around her.
  * When he tries to leave his daughter would somehow sense it in her sleep and start whimpering and stretching out her little arms towards him. He’d have to reluctantly wrap her arms around the nearest plushie he can find and tuck her back into bed so that he can leave her room even if it breaks his heart to leave her alone.
  * It’s the greatest test of his patience to coax his sick kids into eating when they don’t want to. He ends up freezing juice into ice-cubes and forcing them to suck on them since there’s no way he’s going to let them be dehydrated if they already can’t eat.
  * On the rare occasions that Ranmaru comes down with something his kids would try to cook for him, just like he does for them.
  * Most of their well-intended concoctions (e.g  banana beef bowl with chocolate sauce and salad) were vetoed by his wife in favor of his health though.
  * They also get the idea to surround him with things that they think will make him happy and get well soon.
  * Somehow one of his bass ends up taking up the other half of his bed, a bunch of bananas on top of it. There’s a packet of beef jerky as well, in case Daddy gets hungry. The cat basket gets moved from the living room to the foot of his bed and the cats along with it.
  * When his wife checks in on him it’s to see his head cushioned by his children’s favorite plushies, an extremely large teddy bear on one side of him and an equally big Prince Cat on the other and Ranmaru himself drifting in and out of consciousness because it’s too warm, there’s too many things in bed with him and yet he doesn’t have the strength nor the heart to get up and sleep somewhere else.



**papa!Ai:**

  * So much research. So much data. So many questions for the pediatrician who has to resist the urge to throw Ai out of the consultation room.
  * Another papa who keeps vigil over his sick son’s bedside the entire night. His wife finds a cable trailing out of the master bedroom and into their son’s room because it wouldn’t do for him to run out of energy halfway through keeping watch over his boy in case he needs him for anything.
  * Would try out folk remedies to see if there was any truth in them. His wife had to remove the leek compress he wrapped around his son’s neck when he came down with a sore throat because the poor boy couldn’t sleep with the smell so close to him.
  * Makes sure his son takes his medicines on the dot. May take a sample of any medicine left over to analyze for future use.
  * Would try to break down and explain to his boy the illness that he’s down with in an attempt to make him feel better and not so afraid. It doesn’t work.
  * ~~The only thing that happens to Ai is that his heart stops and he short circuits but give him a few days away and he’s back to normal.~~ ~~It’s canon that he overheats and came down with a fever once? Okay, we can go with that.~~
  * Would sit by his feverish daddy’s bedside, changing the damp cloth on Ai’s forehead that always gets warmer faster than usual.
  * Would also try feeding Ai, who has to bend all the way down to get to his son’s determined hand holding up the spoon and get dizzy from doing it too often.
  * He nods off to sleep while looking after his daddy. Rather than carrying him back to his own room, Ai lifts him into bed with him instead. His boy ends up curling up into Ai’s side to sleep while Ai is slightly mystified by how soothing a child’s warmth can be.




End file.
